Ash Return of the Beast

CHAPTER 72



Trail’s End Trailer Park…

The old pastor’s weak resolve had given in to the torturous pain of the branding. Now, scarred by the sign of Lucifer’s Seal on his forehead, his rotting soul was caving in, crumbling under the weight of guilt and shame.

The righteous Reverend Pete Kane had given up the lives of Sarah, her mother, and everyone else in the world to save his own life––the same deplorable life he’d tried to snuff out earlier, fueled by the same cowardly motivation: the fear of facing what he knew he had coming.

Now he found himself sinking into a mire of utter confusion. On the one hand, he felt relief that the Beast was going to let him live. On the other hand, he wanted to die. He wanted to die but he wanted to live. Either way would be hell. He knew that. But death would surely hurl him into the burning pit of the real Hell, the screaming Hell of Dante’s Inferno, the God-forsaken Hell of the Holy Bible. Oh, yes. He knew it well. For years he’d etched its image into the minds of the sinners in his congregation. He’d reveled in some perverse, ego-inflating pleasure as he watched the sheep shifting uncomfortably in the pews while he blasted them with his hellfire-and-brimstone sermons and threatened them with the promise of the agony of eternal damnation if they didn’t adhere to the rules of the Word. At least now he’d found some form of relief, knowing he’d escaped that very fate for himself. Whatever kind of hell on earth was coming at the behest of this hooded creature, it couldn’t possibly be worse than the alternative into which he’d nearly cast himself, had the bullet not missed its mark. Besides, the hooded figure had promised him protection… sanctuary, he’d called it. It had been a strange turn of events. Death had rejected him and Life had called him back. It must have been God’s will.

For reasons he could not fathom, God had granted mercy on his soul. He’d been given a second chance. God had a plan for him, an opportunity for redemption. But what could it be? It would have to be something enormous. Then a glorious thought filled his head: maybe he was destined to save the world from the Evil that was coming. It was an insane idea and he knew it. It seemed impossible. Still, he reminded himself, The Lord does move in mysterious ways, His miracles to perform. At that moment, the old man understood. It had all been for a reason. Everything in his entire life––in spite of the way it may have seemed––had been leading up to this. That realization sparked a glimmer of hope, a tiny light that was growing brighter with each passing moment. The Lord had chosen him for something special. He was saved.

The Doppelganger laughed. “Oh, my dear Pastor Pete. You poor, deluded son of a bitch. Open your bathrobe and close your eyes. This is going to hurt like hell.”

The old man couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He gazed up at the hooded figure. Wh-what? No! This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. You promised. You said I could live. You said–– Even as he was projecting his protests he found himself loosening the belt of his bathrobe and letting the robe fall open against his own will. We made a deal. You said––

“I lied. You’re f*cked.”

What?

“Well, okay, maybe not yet. But you will be. First I have some more decorating to do.”